


Clouds in the Cradle

by synthesizetime



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23656339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synthesizetime/pseuds/synthesizetime
Summary: In which Cloud's neediness rivals an actual baby's.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 15
Kudos: 92





	Clouds in the Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted my return to be something of actual substance instead it's a fluff fic written for the sake of fluff. Ah well. It was fun to write and breezy to complete too.

Cloud couldn't say he missed tracking across Gaia, and he certainly couldn't say he missed the potent cocktail of anxiety and stress and _danger_ that went along with that turbulent period in his life.

But, he supposed there was _one_ thing he did miss.

He missed the bed – as makeshift as it may have been.

Not that the bed had been oftentimes more than a pallet on the cold hard ground, and even when it was an actual bed scored at some cheap motel it was often not comfortable or soft or even lent itself to a good night's rest. Really, in just about every way imaginable those sleeping arrangements for that stressful couple of months, had been awful.

But he did miss it.

He missed it because at some point during that journey it had become _their_ bed. His and Aerith’s. _Only theirs._

Now, sometime later, in their quaint little home decorated with far too many flowers and plants, sat a bed that was much more comfortable than possibly any bed he had ever slept on in his entire life.

So what was bad about it then? It was no longer just _theirs_.

"Explain one thing to me, Aerith." He knew he sounded like a petulant boy whinging about not getting his way no matter how indifferent he tried to keep his voice. Part of him didn’t care. He was that aggravated.

Aerith made a humming sound of acknowledgment but didn't bother to look up from their sleeping daughter’s face.

From where he stood at the foot of the bed, a few feet away from the empty bassinet, Cloud sighed. "Why did we spend eight-and-a-half hours in _four_ different furniture shops to find the perfect bassinet if we're never going to use it?"

Aerith was still humming softly, now brushing her fingertips over the fair-haired child’s soft chubby cheeks with complete awe.

It had been three weeks since their daughter's birth, and Aerith was still utterly mesmerized with the new little life in their midst. And so was Cloud. 

Their child was everything he never realized he had wanted, _but_ he’d be lying if he didn’t admit a little bit of the shine of having a new baby had worn off. Late-night feedings, messy changings, ear-piercing wails, and constantly having just a little bit of bodily fluid on your shirt could eventually wear down any proud parent.

Also, he had discovered, belatedly, that having a child meant having to share his wife…and his bed.

He wasn't sure which one bothered him more...

Carefully, so as not to wake the little dreamer, he sank onto the bed next to Aerith’s bare feet. " _Aerith_ ," he said/whined softly.

Aerith’s green eyes glanced up at him, and she extended a long leg to nudge him with her toes. The sight of her ankles, which had been so recently swollen and pink and were now back to being pale and slender, still filled him with amazement…and a few other things that he wouldn't acknowledge right now.

"We will use it, I promise. Just not yet. Not yet," she said again, her eyes going back to the baby and her face lowering to nuzzle her daughter’s cheek with her nose. "I mean look at her. How could you think she's big enough to sleep on her own when she’s still so tiny, so new? She needs to stay with her mama still. Don't you, little flower?"

Cloud sighed. He was doing that a lot lately. If he wasn't so...Aerith deprived he would have found her words adorable in that way only Aerith could be. Right now, however, they were simply annoying him. Everything was annoying him. His own _neediness_ was annoying him.

Still, a part of him was able to accept the amazing and wonderful absurdness of it all. If anyone had told him years ago, that he’d be a father to a happy and healthy daughter and be married to the most gorgeous woman ever he wouldn’t have believed them for a second. None of this had been planned, not even momentarily dreamed about by him. He never thought of getting married, having a family, yet here he was. Funny how the world worked.

Lost deep in his thoughts he must have been frowning in concentration. "Stop looking so sad. I already deal with one crying baby, I don’t need another. Not yet anyway,” Aerith somehow teased and flirted at the same time, drawing him completely from his thoughts before adding, “Come on, get in." She patted the empty space further up the bed beside her.

He looked at his side of the bed. Though he didn't realize it, the hard set of his mouth turned into a downright pout as he looked at the barricade of pillows that Aerith had constructed to separate his side from hers. So that he wouldn't roll over in the night and accidentally squish their infant, she had said.

 _"You're more likely to do that than I am,"_ he had pointed out, thinking of how Aerith had a tendency to move restlessly throughout the night. 

Her bright eyes had narrowed at the very suggestion. _"I won't squish my own daughter!"_

“ _But I would?”_ he had grumbled but let the matter go.

The pillows kept him away from their baby, it was true, but they also kept him from Aerith.

And it was _killing him_.

"Couldn't we…?" he began, only to realize Aerith was no longer listening to him, her complete attention back on their daughter.

Sighing, "Never mind. I'm just going downstairs."

He wasn't even able to get up off the bed when a palm was pressed flat against his stomach.

"Cloud," came her soft voice from behind him, and there was a note of mischief in it that matched the way her fingertips wiggled tauntingly against his abdominal muscles, "You’re pouting, aren’t you?"

Cloud sat up straight. The friction the movement created between her hand and his body was painfully delicious.

"What? No." Cloud Strife doesn’t pout. At least that’s what he told himself.

“Sometimes you really are like a little boy,” She tsked light-heartedly, pressing a brief kiss to his shoulder.

He turned to look at her. The motion created more friction, making him tense and tighten, wetting his lips, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. She had such an easy, teasing way that Cloud wasn’t sure he would ever get used to.

She pushed herself up on one elbow, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What? You are. Do you deny it?"

One side of her modest nightgown had slipped down one shoulder. Still acutely aware of her warm hand against his stomach, he followed the line of her clavicle with his eyes – then forced himself to avert his gaze.

He wasn’t feeling up for Aerith’s games today because. Maybe he was a little sourer than even he originally thought. "I'll be in the living room–"

"Oh no no no you don’t!" Her hand bunched in his shirt and stopped him as he began to get up. Pulled off balance, he sat abruptly back down on the bed. "Get over here."

He wasn't sure how she did it, considering she had been lying down, but suddenly she was sitting up and pulling him into a kiss. His mouth opened immediately, slanting, and he shifted, twisting around to face her fully without breaking the kiss.

It was a moment later that she broke away, her bright eyes now dark and clouded, lavishing kisses against the defined line his jaw as he wrapped his arms around her waist, insisting on pulling her impossibly closer, when she murmured decisively, "Okay. We'll put her in the bassinet for a little while. Not long though!"

Once their daughter was safely in the contraption he was able to admit that she was, after all, the most perfect thing to ever happen to him, and certainly wonderful enough to merit all of Aerith's fascination.

Still, in the end, all babies had to grow up sometime…Oops, did he say that aloud? 

“She’s not even a month old, Cloud” Aerith reminded him with a breathy laugh and a light smack to the shoulder.

“It’s never too early to start teaching her how to be an independent person.” He had said it with such a straight face like he always did when he was being his Cloud-brand of funny. It never failed to tickle Aerith.

“You can be such a chocobo brain."

He wondered to himself how it was that even her insults made him feel warm on the inside.

“Maybe but,” he pulled her face to his and kissed the corner of her lips, dragging his mouth across her face until he whispered in her ear, “I’m yours, right?”

He doesn’t miss the way her entire body shivers. He knew exactly how to work her. 

He wasn't able to feel accomplished for very long, however.

Aerith had always been and would always be one step ahead of him in every way.

Plucking his blonde locks playfully she said, “Of course you are. No one else could possibly put up with you this long.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title was inspired by a Harry Chapin song. A song that doesn't fit this story at all but it was a funny/cool title so I rolled with it. 🤷
> 
> I hope you sorta enjoyed.


End file.
